


Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire, and Back Again

by 29Pieces



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Bank Robbery, But He's Good At It, Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Friendship, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, He's just pretending, Hostage Situations, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Post-Apocalypse, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Torture, Whump, clever Crowley, only not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22618672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/29Pieces/pseuds/29Pieces
Summary: A demonic assassin. A bank robbery in the wrong place at the wrong time. An angel and a demon forced to outwit their enemies without using miracles. They've been in bad spots before but this is one Crowley might not survive. Whump, shenanigans, and of course comfort.
Comments: 112
Kudos: 363
Collections: Hurt Aziraphale, My faves - Good Omens Whump





	1. Out of the Frying Pan

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for Lady Wallace, who wanted to see our poor boys accidentally get caught up in a hostage situation and have to outsmart the baddies. Poor dears, sometimes they have no luck at all. Thanks Aini Nufire for beta reading!!
> 
> Takes place after Armagedidn't. Rated for mild torture in later chapter, not badly graphic or anything. 
> 
> And guys, you can trust me. I like happy endings. ;)

Aziraphale sighed with contentment as he turned the page, eyes tracking down the old vellum. Dappled sunlight filtered in through the curtains and his cocoa was just the right temperature. No one had come in to try buying any of his books today. In short, Aziraphale was in heaven.

Well, not actual Heaven, you understand. It had been some months now since he'd left that place for good. But that was quite alright; this would do.

Somewhere in the background the phone rang. Of course it did. Aziraphale set his book down in his lap with a frown, shooting a disappointed look at the phone over on the table. It took no heed, continuing to ring as a phone will do.

"Must I?" the angel asked with a sigh but heaved himself up. It might be Crowley, after all. He hadn't heard from the demon in over two days. Odd, since they were free to interact as much as they wanted now with no one willing to try stopping them again.

Setting the book carefully down and marking his page, Aziraphale crossed to the phone and picked it up from its cradle.

"Hello?"

"Angel, it's me. Listen, there's no time to explain."

"Oh, Crowley, dear! I was wondering where you'd gone. What-"

"I'm serious, shut up and listen. Fourth alternate rendezvous, got it? Meet me."

Aziraphale's frown returned, though this time it was more confusion than impatience. Fourth alternate rendezvous? Why on earth was Crowley using those old codes?

"What-"

"Go, angel! I'll explain when you get there. Just go, quick as you can, and _don't_ be followed."

The line went dead, and Aziraphale was suddenly not so charmed by the late daylight outside his window. If he didn't know any better, he'd think Crowley sounded scared. And that… that did not bode well. Aziraphale's brow furrowed with a hint of anxiety as he donned his coat without hesitation and slipped out the door.

Fourth alternate rendezvous… now was that down by the park or across from the bakery up the lane, or… no, he was quite certain it was the 4:27 bus from Regent Street. Aziraphale paused to pull out his pocket watch; he could just make it.

The angel hurried from the shop towards the bus stop, glancing over his shoulder occasionally. Crowley's fear had left a bad taste in his mouth. Aziraphale didn't feel any sort of malicious presence nearby, nor did he spot anyone taking too great an interest in him, but he would feel better once he got some answers.

By a stroke of luck, the bus was just pulling in as Aziraphale reached the stop. A few people occupied the bus already, most of them busy with tiny electronic devices and little doodads that went in their ears—the kind of things Warlock had always loved so much. Aziraphale squeezed through to his customary spot towards the back. Crowley wasn't there, but if he remembered their routine correctly, the demon would join him at the next stop at Piccadilly Circus.

Though it was a mere two-minute drive, Aziraphale felt himself starting to shift uneasily with the need to reach his friend. He suddenly worried what he would do if Crowley _wasn't_ there, but as the bus pulled to a stop again, Aziraphale sighed with relief to spot the familiar red-haired figure.

"Crowley, thank heavens," Aziraphale exclaimed when the demon slithered around other riders to snag the seat behind the angel. He twisted to examine his friend carefully. "Are you alright, my dear? What's going on? Why all the secrecy?"

"We have a problem," Crowley replied tersely. He peered over his dark glasses, gaze darting over their fellow passengers.

"But why are we discussing it on a bus? Has something happened to your car? I always said you drive it far too-"

"Ngh, car's fine, too recognizable though. Runs on miracles. No use for now. Listen, someone's been following me. _Hunting_ me."

"Hunting?" Aziraphale repeated in alarm. He straightened in the seat and clenched his hands, wishing he had his flaming sword. "Are you alright? Who-"

"Assassin," Crowley cut him off. "Demon. Hell's most feared tracker, the most ancient and powerful hunter they've got. And he's after me. _Us_. I only got one quick look, but it's him. It's _Kevin._ "

"Wait." Aziraphale could tell from Crowley's panic that this was a terribly serious situation, but this point needed to be cleared up."The ancient and powerful demon assassin who's hunting us is named… Kevin?"

"What? No. Yes. No! It's Kava- Kethlg- er, Kagh- oh for _someone's_ sake, no one can pronounce his name so we just call him Kevin!"

Crowley glanced over his shoulder again as though in expectation that this Kevin demon would suddenly appear on the bus, eyes darting this way and that in constant vigilance.

Knowing demons as he did, Aziraphale couldn't help but wrinkle his brow. "And no one teases him?"

"Once." Crowley shuddered. "No one teases Kevin anymore. Angel, _focus_! Do you have any idea how much trouble we're in?"

"Alright, then, alright, my dear. I suppose the best thing we can do is come up with a plan. I can hide us in the meantime, make us invisible." He snapped his fingers.

"No, _DON'T-_ " Crowley shouted, making nearby passengers jump in alarm.

Startled, Aziraphale snapped again, restoring them to visibility. "What-"

"Damn it, angel," Crowley growled, leaping from his seat. Without stopping to explain himself, he grabbed Aziraphale's hand and dragged him along towards the front of the bus.

"Crowley, what's going on?" Aziraphale protested. "Why are we-"

"He'll have noticed that!" The demon kicked at the door impatiently, ignoring the bus driver's angry remarks. When it didn't open fast enough, he waved his hand to blow it back on its hinges and yanked both of them off the second there was room. "Run!"

"But _why_?" Aziraphale asked again, panting already as he was pulled along. They dashed along the crowded pavement, heedless of the people they were knocking aside. The angel gasped out hasty apologies but had to save most of his breath for running.

"Kevin," Crowley called to him over his shoulder. "Tracker. He can sense miracles, that's how he follows a trail. He'll have felt you try to hide us and be back on the scent!"

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "Oh dear, I… I didn't know!"

"No time, just run!"

This was no good at all. Aziraphale was already flagging and Crowley wasn't in much better shape, for all his leaner stature. The angel chanced a look over his shoulder and gasped.

"It- it's not that fellow, is it?"

Crowley screeched to a halt and spun, harried gaze looking in the direction Aziraphale was pointing.

A good block behind them, a man-shaped being was standing on the corner, staring straight at them. Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes from that distance, but the smile on his face was full of pointed teeth and deranged delight which sent a shiver down Aziraphale's spine. As did the sight of the wicked looking blade the man-shaped being raised a second later. He pointed it at them, grinned wider, and licked the edge of the blade.

Crowley went rigid. "Yeah, that's Kevin."

"Should we-"

"RUN!"

They took off again, while deeper fear crept into Aziraphale's heart. He hated to admit it, but it was clear they weren't going to outrun him, not as soft as he'd gotten. Crowley's breaths were coming ragged and haggard as well. They weren't going to make it…

"Turn here!" Crowley snapped, jerking Aziraphale around a corner to another street where a row of businesses lined the little avenue. A gust of wind sent stray papers skittering over the pavement; it carried a whiff of brimstone.

"Crowley," Aziraphale started, but the demon shook his head.

"In here, quick," he ordered, gesturing to the first door of the row. Crowley shoved it open and pulled Aziraphale inside then slammed it closed again. Both of them whirled, watching the door with bated breath, waiting for it to open.

"Well," Aziraphale panted. "This couldn't get much worse." He clutched a stitch in his side as he took a few steps backwards, eyes glued to the door. The angel only stopped when he ran into something decidedly unpleasant.

"And who the hell are _you_?" a furious voice demanded. "Hands up, both of you! Turn slowly! Sis, get up here!"

Slowly, Aziraphale and Crowley turned; the thing Aziraphale had run into was a gun, and on the other side of the gun was a man in a mask. And he seemed quite peeved.

Aziraphale gulped. Half a dozen people were flat on the floor, looking up at them in dismay and terror. Beside him, Crowley tipped his head back and growled.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be _kidding_ me!"

"I beg your pardon," Aziraphale spoke up politely, raising his hands. "But, is this a robbery?"

The man stared at him. "Boy, you're quick, ain't ya?"

"Ah, I thought as much. I do apologize, but I believe we've got the wrong building, so we'll just-"

" _Don't move_!" the man shouted, raising the gun to point at the angel's face instead.

"Right, we'll not move," Aziraphale decided. "But really, this is just a simple misunderstanding."

"What's going on?" a woman demanded, coming from a staircase nearby. Her face was also masked and she came to a halt as she saw them. "What is this?"

"They came through the door!"

Without a word, the woman turned towards the group of people huddled on the floor and kicked one of them heavily in the stomach. The man cried out and tried to wriggle away from her but his hands seemed to be zip-tied behind him, leaving little room for escape as the robber kicked him over and over again.

"What are you trying to pull?" she raged. "We told you to lock that door! Thought you'd play cute, did you? Thought someone would come swooping in to your rescue?"

"No!" the poor man cried out as Crowley shifted in discomfort beside Aziraphale. "I did, I swear, I locked it just like you asked! Please!"

"Crowley?" Aziraphale hissed out of the side of his mouth.

The demon shrugged miserably. "I assumed it was open…"

Aziraphale closed his eyes and groaned. "So of course it was." He gulped. "Is that enough of a miracle for…?"

"I don't know! I didn't do it on purpose! We gotta get out of here before-"

"You're not going anywhere!" the man with the gun snarled. He lashed out and grabbed Aziraphale by the front of the coat, wrenching him around and flinging him hard to the floor.

Aziraphale hit with a grunt and instinctively rolled over with the intention of getting back up, only to find the gun pressing against his forehead. The angel froze. It took everything in him not to miracle the guns away, the robbers into handcuffs, and the people to safety. But with Kevin so close, and their hiding spot so tenuous, he didn't dare use any miracles at all that would draw the assassin's attention. So he held very still, hoping the robber didn't get twitchy.

"What should we do with 'em?" the man asked the other robber, voice full of menace.

"I can't help but think your best bet would be to let us walk out of here-" Aziraphale cut off with a cry as the robber used the gun to pistol-whip him across the face. The angel tumbled back, clutching his stinging cheek.

"OY!" Crowley lunged forward.

He didn't make it far. The movement and the sudden noise startled the robber, who whirled reflexively… and pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed against the bare tile of the floor and unadorned walls, leaving the hostages to scream and cower on the floor. Crowley's mouth opened in a small gasp; the demon stumbled backwards, then collapsed, clutching his stomach.

" _Crowley_!" Aziraphale cried. He scrambled to all fours and clambered over to the demon, heedless of the gun pointed his direction once again. No, no, no… The angel instinctively reached out a hand to heal the wound before remembering that one, demons couldn't be healed by angels, and two, if he tried it would only use miraculous power that Kevin would be drawn to.

"No, you can't!" Crowley hissed, twitching away from him in case the angel forgot these two important things.

"Oh… _darn_ it all!" Aziraphale half-sobbed. "Is it bad? Let me see, dear."

"Ngh. I'm fine. Right as rain. Tip-top condition as you would say- oh bless it, that looks bad," Crowley groaned as he pulled his hands away from his stomach, coated in red. "Alright, alright, we'll just have to make do…"

From the back, the female robber stormed towards them. "What did you do that for?" she snapped at her counterpart. She gestured outside. "Someone will have heard that! If they call the police… Damn it, you always gotta screw things up."

"He was coming at me!" the other shouted back. "It's fine. Put that one with the others, I'll lock the door."

"For real this time," she sneered, shooting a baleful look over her shoulder at the man she'd been attacking. "You, bow-tie! Get over here, on the ground!"

"No, wait, I have to help him-"

"I said, _on the ground_!" She grabbed Aziraphale by the arm and yanked him away from Crowley. He let her pull him over to the cluster of hostages, knowing that without miracles there was nothing he could do for the moment. With a warning growl, the woman kicked him onto his stomach.

"Hands behind you," she ordered. "Now. _Put…_ your _hands…_ _behind_ you!"

"Alright, alright," Aziraphale snapped back, short on temper when he was so distracted with worry for Crowley. Reluctantly, he held his hands behind his back, allowing her to slip the plastic loops of zip-ties over his wrists and cinch them tight enough to make him wince.

At the front of the bank, the other robber was jiggling the door handle to satisfy himself that it was locked again. With the door firmly closed, he turned back to the others and stormed their direction. Crowley raised an arm weakly to hold him at bay but it was altogether ineffective; the robber merely grabbed him and dragged him bodily across the floor.

Aziraphale winced, both at the sound of Crowley's choked gasp of pain and the sight of the crimson trail of blood streaking behind him on the tiles. Though the angel glowered at the robber, he was ignored.

"There," the man snapped as he tossed the wounded demon uncaringly beside Aziraphale. "Cover them, I'll check for weapons or wires."

Aziraphale, who had immediately tried to sit up so he could check on Crowley again, found himself kicked back down with a heavy boot planted firmly on his back to hold him in place. The angel wriggled with dismay.

"Do be careful!" he protested. "Mind the coat, won't you?"

"Really?" Crowley snorted, turning his head to meet Aziraphale's gaze. "The coat? That's your concern?"

"Well, it's clean!"

"Shut up, both of you," the woman robber snapped, standing over them while the man roughly ran his hands over their torsos and legs in search of whatever they might find, which was nothing.

"Of all places to hide," Crowley grumbled. "How did we end up in the middle of a bank robbery?"

Aziraphale shot a disapproving look at the robbers once they'd satisfied themselves the two newcomers weren't hiding anything. While they moved towards the back to hold a quick whispered conference, he turned his attention back to Crowley.

"Now listen, dear," he murmured. "Whatever you do, don't you _dare_ discorporate on me. Tell me the truth, is it bad?"

Crowley wriggled, then stilled with a gasp. The robbers hadn't even bothered tying him up, but his hands were occupied with trying to keep as much of his blood inside his body as possible. "Well, it isn't _good_ ," he replied. "I'll manage. Can't discorporate, I'd end up in…"

He didn't finish. He didn't need to. They both knew what it would mean: Crowley would be returned to Hell, and the demons would never let him leave or have another body. If he was lucky, they would finish killing him outright. If he was unlucky, which he must be in order to have ended up here, they would keep him prisoner and spend the rest of eternity punishing him for his rebellion. No, discorporation was unthinkable.

"Maybe," Aziraphale started hesitantly. "Maybe if you heal yourself just a _little_ , just a small miracle, maybe Kevin won't notice."

"Can't," Crowley grunted with palpable regret. "He was right behind us, and he might have felt me open the door. He'd find us in a second. I can't heal _that_ fast and besides…"

He tilted his head, and even though Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes behind the dark glasses, he could imagine the snake-ish gaze roving over the other hostages. The angel sighed and slumped, prone on the floor.

"Too many innocent people in here to risk it," he agreed, rather hopelessly. For now, their only choice was to lie low and hope the robbers got what they came for quickly… before Crowley bled to death.

Before Hell's most feared assassin realized where they were and came in for the kill while they were vulnerable and helpless.

Before everything went from worse to even worser.


	2. Into the Fire

Crowley _did not_ want to admit to himself or Aziraphale just how bad this was. The bullet hole in his gut throbbed with intense pain that made him think of Hell, which was a really very unpleasant thing to think about. Especially given the ever increasing likelihood that he was going to find himself there again before the day was through.

He didn't know how long it would take to bleed out, but Crowley already felt weaker; even without knowing much about human medical whatnot, the demon was pretty sure that wasn't good. If they didn't get out of there soon, it would be past the point where he was strong enough to heal himself at all.

No sense worrying Aziraphale with that sort of information when there was nothing they could do about it, though, so Crowley gritted his teeth and did his best to hang on.

Lady Robber was downstairs, ostensibly trying to get the vault open, while the man (had he called her "sis" earlier? Did that make him Brother Robber then?) paced around the hostages. Now and then he would prod one of them with a boot or mime shooting them. Crowley would give anything to wipe him off the face of the earth with one good snap of his fingers.

"Crowley," Aziraphale whispered, awkwardly trying to keep his head lifted while flat on his stomach.

"Mm?"

Instead of answering, the angel dipped his head towards Brother Robber, who was standing over a silently crying woman. Every time he nudged her with his toe, she choked back another sob.

"I believe she's…" Aziraphale didn't finish, but there was no need.

Crowley's eyes widened as he sensed it, too. A second heartbeat. Either she had two hearts (binary vascular system, that would be cool) or she was pregnant, still too early to show.

Indignation flared in the demon's chest. He'd done evil things before (well, mostly it was all just mischief and inconveniences) but his one hard and fast line was that you didn't mess with kids. Which included babies and pregnant women. Crowley felt his fangs extend in his mouth and had to force himself to put them back away. Not because that was any kind of miracle—it was just the way he looked—but because he was already too weak to take this robber out with nothing but his teeth.

"Oy, you!" Crowley called out instead. "Yeah, you, menacing fellow. I don't suppose I could get a towel or something?"

Brother Robber looked up from the woman he was bullying and narrowed his eyes. He strode Crowley's direction, which at least was what the demon had intended.

"Handkerchief?" Crowley suggested. "Band-aid? One single square of toilet paper?"

"Shut it," Brother Robber snapped, digging his toe into Crowley's side.

"You don't want him discorporating," Aziraphale piped up, rolling slightly onto his side and craning his neck in order to look up at the man. "I mean, er, dying. You don't want him _dying_. My knowledge of the British Empire law is fuzzy-"

"I don't think they call it that anymore," Crowley reminded him.

"-but I do believe if you've killed him, that's frightfully more severe than just a bit of burgling. So it's in your best interest to let me bandage that for him. At the very least, loan him your scarf. You did shoot him, after all, it's the least you can do."

Brother Robber scowled down at them. Crowley was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting any help at all.

"You know," the robber snapped, "I think you two talk too much. Shut it, or I'll shut you both up!" He pointed the gun at Aziraphale, imitating the sound of a gunshot.

Aziraphale only huffed. "Well, really."

"We got it!" Lady Robber shouted from downstairs where Crowley assumed the vault was. "It's open, we did it!"

Turning away from his prisoners, the robber whooped and headed for the stairs. "Al- _right_ , attagirl! Bring up that money, sis!"

Thank heaven- or hell. Or something. Crowley wriggled, preparing himself to start magicking away the damage done by the bullet as soon as they were able to leave. It was going to be close, and they'd have to immediately relocate, and this was all going to be devilishly tricky but at least _this_ part of the whole irritating ordeal was almost over.

"There, there, my dear," Aziraphale was whispering to the silently crying woman they'd gotten Brother Robber away from. "I've read dozens of books on these sorts of escapades, you know. The villains have no reason to harm any of you, not once they have what they want and you won't be able to identify them. They'll be in a hurry to leave, quick as they can, and then you'll be right as rain."

She looked up at him and sniffled, nodding frantically.

Crowley watched as Lady Robber emerged from the stairway and tossed two large duffel bags to the ground before taking two more empty ones from Brother Robber.

"Come on, come on," he grumbled softly through gritted teeth. His hands were already so slick with his own blood, it was hard to tell if he was stemming the flow even a little bit. "Hurry and get out…"

And then the lights went off.

Curses filled the room, as well as a few terrified shrieks from the hostages. Outside, sirens wailed and flashing blue filled the now darkened space.

The police had arrived and Crowley groaned with dismay. This had just gone from a robbery to a hostage situation.

None of them were going anywhere.

"No, no, _no_!" Lady Robber shouted, dropping the duffel bags and hurrying towards the door, gun brandished. "Damn it! Now look what you've done! It's the cops!"

"I can see it's the cops!" Brother Robber shouted back. "It's not my fault!"

"I told you someone would have heard that shot. _Now_ what are we supposed to do? That guy is going to die and then we're going down for murder!"

The woman whirled back around; Crowley didn't like the desperation in her eyes. Desperate humans tended to do really, _really_ stupid things. He knew that well, used it often to accomplish various forms of mayhem. This time, though, it was going to go very badly for him indeed.

"Terribly sorry to mention, but I did tell you this," Aziraphale piped up from the floor, staring intently at the two thieves. "He's not dead yet, though. See, look at him."

Gritting his teeth in a tight smirk, Crowley waved a wry hand. "Yup, not dead. Still alive. No need for panic. Let's everyone calm down-"

"Shut up!" both robbers yelled together.

Aziraphale sighed impatiently, but Crowley thunked his head back down onto the floor. Why did these things always happen to him, anyway?

"End this quickly," the angel insisted, ignoring their warning. "And there will still be time to save him, and then it won't be as bad for you. It's quite clear you won't be getting out of here, and we'd all like to avoid any unnecessary… unpleasantries. So if you would simply-"

"I said," Lady Robber snarled, storming towards Aziraphale and jamming the gun against his head. " _Shut… up!_ "

"Hello in there!" a voice called from outside, thankfully distracting the woman into forgetting about Aziraphale. Honestly, Crowley thought, shaking his head at the angel. Aziraphale was going to get himself discorporated before Crowley finished bleeding out, at this rate. Never could leave well enough alone. Though in this case, the demon knew it was to protect _him_ , and that made him all kinds of warm.

Which was good, because everything else was starting to get cold.

"This is the London Police!" the voice outside continued, someone shouting into a bullhorn. "We're bringing a secure phone up to the door so we can discuss matters calmly. Do not shoot. Repeat, we're bringing a phone line to the front door, do not shoot!"

Crowley tried to sit up so he could see what was happening outside but fell back again with a grunt of pain. He watched the bad guys instead, keeping an eye on their tense forms and hoping they didn't start shooting anyways. Why couldn't the cops have waited just five more minutes for the robbers to escape? Sure, the bank would lose all their money, but Crowley was having a hard time caring about that in the face of potentially losing his _life_ instead.

"Wait, don't go up there, you idiot," Lady Robber hissed. "It's a trick! They'll shoot you if you don't have a hostage. Grab the girl."

"No, come on!" Crowley instantly grumbled as the other robber reached for the pregnant woman. Not like he could stop them, though.

The woman immediately began sobbing, struggling against the man and quickly approaching actual hysteria. Crowley's jaw clenched in trepidation of what they would do if she didn't calm down. He caught Aziraphale's eye, noting the expression on the angel's face. Crowley shook his head.

"Angel, _don't_ ," he hissed, but it was too late.

"Now really," Aziraphale said, addressing the man. "Leave her be, my dear fellow. Take me, I won't be half as hard to hold onto. Besides, if you're going to use someone as a shield, shouldn't it be someone tall enough they couldn't still shoot you in the head if they were clever enough?"

Since when did Aziraphale know so much about bank robberies, anyway? Crowley filed that away to wonder about later. Right now his main concern was that Kevin might be standing outside, attracted by the hubbub, and might spot the angel. Of course Aziraphale had to help the woman, though, that was just par for the course, damn him. Crowley's focus zeroed back in on the two robbers, who traded a look with each other.

"Whatever, just take him," Lady Robber snapped. "I'm starting to hope they shoot _him_."

Aziraphale huffed but remained steady and calm as he was heaved up to his feet. Brother Robber slid in behind him, one hand clenching the back of Aziraphale's collar and the other keeping the gun pressed to his temple. Slowly, they made their way to the front door and the robber had to let go of Aziraphale to pull out a key ring.

"You even think about running for it," he warned, "and we'll make sure your buddy dies quicker than expected."

Aziraphale didn't reply, though Crowley had to snort at the very idea of the angel running off and leaving him. These stupid robbers had no idea who they were dealing with. He shivered again as the front door opened, allowing a cold breeze to swirl into the building and across the floor. Surely it shouldn't be so cold… Crowley shuddered against a wave of nausea and faintness. Bless it, he was starting to fade and that was really bad…

"Back, all of you!" the robber hollered. "I'll shoot him if anyone even twitches! You, drop that phone. Now get back, I'm serious, I'll kill him right here and now!"

The door slammed again a second later and there was no immediate appearance of the demon assassin, so Crowley hoped that meant Kevin hadn't been standing in the crowd after all. Keys jingled and then Aziraphale was being hauled back from the front of the bank at last. Crowley released a sigh of relief.

Still, as tense as he was, the sound of a phone made him nearly leap out of his skin.

Brother Robber jerked the phone out of its box. "What?!" He motioned for Lady Robber to take hold of Aziraphale. She obligingly stormed over and forced the angel to sink down to his knees.

Catching his eye, Crowley raised an eyebrow in questioning. Aziraphale shook his head. Assuming they were discussing the same question, the angel hadn't seen Kevin outside, either. Again, Crowley exhaled slowly in relief. Okay. They still had a bit of time on their side, then.

"Hostage negotiator?" Brother Robber demanded to the phone. There was a pause. "Yeah, damn right we shot one of them, and if I don't see the police force backing off, there'll be more shots fired!"

Another pause, then the robber stared at his partner. "He wants to talk to one of the hostages."

The woman glowered and fisted her hand in Aziraphale's hair, jerking his head back so she could slide the gun under his chin instead. "I want to hear every word said between them," she grumbled. "Keep the phone out where we can hear. You! Tell him everything is fine in here!"

For his part, Aziraphale seemed unruffled and cool as he cleared his throat. "Yes, hello, to whom am I speaking?"

"This is Detective Ellicott of the London Police. Are you hurt?"

"Oh no, I'm quite alright, thank you for asking. How are you?"

"…Uh, fine. Listen, how many people are injured inside?"

"Just the one, I believe. It's difficult to tell with the unbelievable levels of stress in here, you understand. Can't sort out the emotional turmoil from any need of physical healing. It interferes with the signals."

The robber holding the phone frowned at his sister. "Is he using some kind of code?"

"No funny business," Lady Robber warned, giving the angel a little shake.

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"…Okay, that's good, I think," Ellicott replied. "Let them know we'll be asking their demands and doing everything we can to negotiate a peaceful resolution to this."

"Oh thank heavens for that," Aziraphale said brightly. "A peaceful resolution is always best."

"…Yeah. Anyway. We'll get to that, but first as a sign of good will, it would make everyone out here feel a lot better if they gave up just one hostage. Just one, that's all we ask. The injured man, that would be good."

"What?" Aziraphale gasped without looking to the robbers to consult with them first. "No, that wouldn't be good at all!"

"…I'm sorry, what?"

Crowley met his eyes and shook his head in agreement. The last thing in the world they should do right now was split up. In his current condition, Crowley would have no way of fighting Kevin off if he showed up. And it wasn't like he was doing Aziraphale much good like this, but he couldn't bear the thought of letting the angel out of his sight. What if Kevin cornered him? Aziraphale was a good fighter but he would be outmatched on his own. No, they had to stick together, no matter what.

Impatiently, Brother Robber put the phone back up to his own ear.

"No hostages," he retorted stubbornly. "They're all staying in here. Unless you turn the power back on, then _maybe_ we'll send one out. _One_."

"The woman," Crowley growled from the pool of his own blood on the floor. Both robbers turned to glower at him in suspicion, but Crowley set his jaw and nodded towards the pregnant woman. "Her. Send her out, not me. I'm staying right here."

"Are you nuts?" Brother Robber hissed, even as the other hostages gave the demon disbelieving looks. "A second ago it was, 'get this guy some help before he dies', now you don't want to go?"

"I said… the woman." Crowley gave the robbers his most severe and stubborn stare, though of course they wouldn't see it through his dark glasses.

For a moment, the little trio engaged in a short but one-sided stare-down, while Aziraphale's gaze flicked between the robber and the demon. Crowley considered taking his glasses off just so they got the full impact of his blinkless glower. On the other hand, he'd probably be shot several more times on the spot and scare the other hostages in the process, so best to just let things get on with it. Although if this escapade didn't progress to its endgame pretty damn fast, he was going to have to rethink that strategy.

"Fine," the robber snapped to both Crowley and Detective Ellicott. "We'll send out a woman. Just get the power back on. As for demands, we want a truck, clear passage out of here, and fast."

He paused to listen to the answer as Crowley and Aziraphale traded one more look.

"No, you have an hour!" the robber shouted in reply to whatever response he had gotten. "After that, more people start getting shot!"

He slammed the phone back down while Lady Robber hauled Aziraphale back up to his feet and thrust him towards the other hostages. Kicking out the backs of his knees, she let the angel fall heavily to the floor without the use of his hands. Crowley reached out weakly to try and catch him but barely had the strength to get his hand out that far. A crimson droplet splashed to the floor beside Aziraphale's head.

"Alright, angel?" Crowley whispered.

"Alright. Oh, my dear boy, an hour… you can hold on that long, can't you, dear? You- you'll be quite alright?"

Crowley coughed and of course his body chose _that moment_ to send some blood to his mouth so that it dribbled out the corner. Aziraphale's eyes widened in fear.

"No, Crowley, we _can't_ wait!" he fretted. "Just heal yourself and we'll run for it-"

"Angel. I told you. It's going to take too long if I try to heal myself and I won't be in any shape to move, and there's too many people here. Let's just…" He hissed in pain and rested his head back down. "One thing at a time. Don't worry about me, just be ready to fight."

Aziraphale didn't look appeased, but at least he nodded and turned his attention back to the front where the robbers were having a hushed conversation.

Crowley exhaled a shaky breath and felt for his inner power. Regardless of what he'd told Aziraphale, he was starting to have a nagging doubt he'd be able to heal himself at all. Another wave of dizziness hit him out of nowhere and Crowley closed his eyes.

They needed to speed things up. And he was starting to develop a plan.


	3. Toasting Like Nice Crispy Bacon

Aziraphale kept one eye on the two bad guys who had finished filling their remaining duffel bags with cash from the vault downstairs and were now whispering between themselves. He didn't like the idea of the ruffians making off with the money, but he also couldn't pretend that they were his primary concern.

Beside him, Crowley coughed weakly. More blood trickled from his mouth, and Aziraphale's heart clenched. The release of the hostage (dear woman, she'd been so grateful to them) had bought time for the robbers, but every second this took was a second his demon friend simply couldn't afford.

"Maybe if we miracled all the people out of here first," he postulated, but Crowley shook his head.

"Then Kevin's in here before I can heal myself and he takes both of us back to Hell."

"Then if we heal you first-"

"Then Kevin's in here before the people are out, and they die, and he takes both of us back to Hell."

"Oh drat, you aren't helping!" Aziraphale had to do _something_. But he also knew Crowley was right. There just seemed to be no way around things, but there simply _must_ be. They couldn't have survived an Apocalypse-that-wasn't only to be destroyed now by a couple of humans with guns and a demon named Kevin. The angel took a deep breath. All the books he'd read, literary adventures of every kind, surely a clever idea would occur to him if he could just _think_.

"Alright then," he decided, squaring his shoulders as well as he could with them pulled behind him. "Listen, if we can't miracle the hostages safely away, perhaps we can lend a hand getting these fiends to release them on their own. Then you can heal-"

"Yeah, thought of that," Crowley interrupted. "Getting them to let these blokes go. I think it's our best bet. We'll have to do it without any miracles, and then… well anyway, one thing at a time. I've actually been thinking and I might have an idea."

Aziraphale sighed. "Well thank heavens for that. What is it, then?"

"Erm…" Crowley shifted. "You're not going to like it."

With a suspicious frown, the angel raised his chin a bit so he could eye his friend. "Oh?"

"…Do you remember…" The demon tilted his head as though checking for eavesdroppers then lowered his voice. "When you asked Michael for a towel?"

It was a most ungracious smirk that crossed Aziraphale's face at the memory; he quickly put it away and harrumphed. "Er, yes. But Crowley, we can't swap without an enormous miracle-"

"Not talking about swapping, angel." Crowley took a deep breath, sounding so dreadfully tired. "I'm talking about _the part you played_. You could do it again."

"You- you want me to pretend to be a-" Aziraphale hastily looked around then whispered, "demon?"

"Mm. Offer them a deal. We'll get them out of here, make them rich, make them _powerful_. In exchange for their immortal souls."

" _Crowley_!" Aziraphale couldn't bite back the shocked cry at the very idea. His eyes widened in horror as he shook his head emphatically. "I am an _angel_ ," he hissed. "I couldn't- why, I could _never_ -"

"Oh stop blubbering, _angel_ ," Crowley retorted testily. "It doesn't actually work that way, never did. You have to make them believe it does. Make them think they stand to gain everything. I know humans, been doing this a long time. They'll believe it."

"And if they don't?" Aziraphale protested. "No. There's too much at stake."

With another cough, Crowley reached for the angel's shoulder, leaving a bloody print that Aziraphale couldn't bring himself to complain about.

"You convinced the _Lord_ of _Hell_. You can convince a couple of humans. Just, not out here. Can't have the hostages running outside talking about demon deals, attract too much attention. Tell them you want to make a deal, in private. Get them to believe you're a demon, tell them to release all the hostages but us, and while the police are sorting things out, you'll get them and their money out of here."

Crowley made it sound so simple, but Aziraphale's gut twisted at the idea of everything riding on his ability to perform the part. Granted, it had been a similar desperate moment in Hell, pretending with everything he had that he was actually Crowley, and it had worked. But that had been unreasonably good luck, and if he failed this time, the outcome was unthinkable. He shook his head fearfully.

"Aziraphale." Crowley squeezed his shoulder but the grip was so weak. "Our _best_ case scenario if we do nothing is the police stall for time and I discorporate before we ever get out of here. We're at a stalemate. We gotta change the game, and this is the only way I know how. You can do this, angel."

Aziraphale sighed, wishing he could be as confident. Another thought occurred to him.

"But how am I supposed to convince them we're demons if we can't use any miracles to prove it?" he asked.

Crowley grinned and released his grip on Aziraphale to tilt his dark glasses down. Bright yellow snake eyes peered over the rims. "Well," he said as fangs slid down his bottom lip. "At least one of us _looks_ like a demon, after all."

Aziraphale still didn't like this, but he supposed it was better than not doing anything at all. Crowley's faith in him made the angel feel both buoyant and terrified. Failing was bad enough, but letting Crowley down—aside from the fact that the demon's life was riding on this—was so much worse. He took as much time as he dared to collect himself, closing his eyes and taking himself back to that awful day in Hell. What it had felt like to be "Crowley," the smooth nonchalance, the near bored attitude for any clear and present danger to himself. Crowley was slick, suave, in control. Dangerous. Aziraphale took another breath.

"Oh but really, wouldn't it be better if it was you?" he couldn't help but ask. "Since you are the actual demon?"

"Let's be realistic," Crowley replied weakly. "I'm not exactly an impressive figure right now, angel. 'Sides, I might pass out, just so you know."

"Just you don't!"

Crowley nodded slowly. "I'll hold on as long as I can. Best hurry. You can do this. Just… be me."

Right. He needed to stop stalling. Aziraphale raised his chin, forced his face into casual indifference, and nodded.

"Good," Crowley said. "Right, turn 'round then, let me get at those ties."

Aziraphale obligingly rolled onto his side, facing away from the demon. He pushed his bound wrists as close to Crowley as he could, reaching back until he felt his arm brush Crowley's face.

"Got it," Crowley murmured.

The angel kept an eye on the two robbers, ready to shift away again if they looked over. They seemed harried, still arguing between themselves quietly, and paid no mind as Crowley's fangs brushed over Aziraphale's wrists.

"Don't bite me," Aziraphale whispered over his shoulder. The only reply was a muffled grunt and a light scraping across his skin, but the fangs didn't puncture. A second later, the plastic bindings snapped free and his hands tingled as blood rushed back in. "There we are. I'll just keep these in place until I can have a 'miraculous escape'."

"Good plan."

Crowley sounded weaker by the second, so Aziraphale didn't stop to gather himself again. He heaved himself up into a sitting position, keeping his hands behind his back as though still bound.

"Hey!" the male robber snapped, noticing him and storming their direction. "What do you think you're up to? Not trying to be heroes, are you?"

"Hardly," Aziraphale yawned. _Demon,_ he thought furiously. _Be a demon._ "In fact, I'm getting bored with this entire charade. I think it's time we made a deal."

"Oh you do, do you?" the robber snorted. "And just what sort of a deal would that be?"

Aziraphale stared at him incredulously and wrinkled his nose. "Not _here_ , use your brain. In private. We need to talk."

"You know what, I've had enough of these two," the female robber grumbled as she strode over to join them. "Take them down to the vault. If they have something to offer, they can do it there. If not, lock them in."

Hmm, that might not be a bad plan, it would at least separate Kevin from the other hostages if they drew him in-

"Or better yet, just leave their bodies in there," she finished, erasing the rest of that train of thought from Aziraphale's mind. So much for that, then.

"What are you doing?" Crowley hissed at Aziraphale, playing his part. "If you're even _thinking_ -"

"I'm not sitting in here waiting around all night," Aziraphale retorted coolly. "Maybe _you've_ nothing better to do, but I have."

"Well, I'd hate to be interrupting your important business," the robber snapped.

"Too late for that, but we can still make it worth both our whiles."

Though the robber rolled his eyes, he also didn't make any arguments or protests. Instead he jerked the gun at Aziraphale, gesturing that he should get to his feet, while simultaneously grabbing Crowley by the back of his jacket and hauling him up. It was all Aziraphale could do to keep himself together when he heard Crowley cry out in anguish at the movement. The demon faltered, only staying on his feet because of the robber's grip on him.

"Down the stairs," the robber snapped. "Don't try to get cute."

Aziraphale shrugged as though he didn't have a care in the world and headed for the staircase down to the vault. He pulled his hands as far up into his coat sleeves as he could, clutching the broken zip-tie, and prayed Crowley wouldn't pass out from the short journey. By the time they reached the vault, now standing empty, the demon was sweating profusely and panting, but awake. The robber released him and he crashed back down to the floor again with another pained moan.

Shuddering, Crowley rolled back onto his back and heaved for breath.

Aziraphale pretended not to notice.

"Now then," the robber said, aiming the gun in Aziraphale's direction and smirking. "Let's hear this deal. Or should I just shoot you both now and spare myself the trouble?"

Aziraphale quirked a brow, then looked down at his demon friend.

"Crowley," he said. "Take off the glasses."

"What? Are you crazy?" Crowley hissed back immediately with _just_ enough inflection that Aziraphale knew he was only playing along.

"Do it."

"No! Aziraphale, you know damn well why I can't!"

The robber snorted, looking back and forth between them. "Azeerfell, what sort of name is _that_?" Without waiting for an answer, he leaned over Crowley, reaching for his face. Though the demon raised a hand to shove him away, the robber was still able to easily pluck the dark glasses away. The effect it had on him was instantaneous.

Yelping and dropping the glasses, the robber stumbled backwards and swung the gun in Crowley's direction. Even in the dimmer lighting of the vault, there was no missing the bright gold snake eyes glimmering back up at him.

"It's pronounced _Aziraphale_ , actually," the angel informed him haughtily. He yanked his hands out from behind him as though against the pressure of the zip-ties, then dropped the bindings contemptuously to the floor and cricked his neck. "It's a demon sort of name."

"A _what_?"

"If you think the eyes are something, you should see his tongue."

Taking the cue, Crowley hissed at the robber, letting his forked tongue shoot past his teeth. Again, the robber yelped and took several more steps back.

More footsteps thudded down the stairs. "What's going on down- _what_ the _HELL_?"

The other robber had joined them, grabbing her brother's arm and yanking him farther away from the two. Crowley snickered. Even in the face of the two guns now directed at them, Aziraphale had to admit it _was_ terribly satisfying to see them so shaken.

"What are you playing at?" the first robber demanded. "What, are those… contacts or something?"

Crowley snickered again, eyes shifting; where before only the irises had been the unearthly gold, his sclerae now disappeared entirely into bright yellow orange. Still grinning widely, his fangs extended down.

"Afraid not," Aziraphale hummed. "As I said: demons. Do you want to make a deal or not? You want money and power. I want to get on with my evening. There's a simple solution here, really. So." He raised both eyebrows and smiled. "Do I have your attention?"

"You're lying," the woman snapped, though she sounded shaken. "You're telling me that… demons… can be killed by an ordinary gun?"

Aziraphale's heart clenched at the idea but forced himself to stay straight-faced, giving his friend an unconcerned glance. "Oh, him? Ngh. He's at low power for the moment. Being punished. Broke the rules. That's why he can't hide his real eyes like I can, can't heal up."

"Oh really? So you're saying if I shot you right now," the woman said as she raised her gun, "it wouldn't do anything?"

 _I would really most rather you not do that,_ Aziraphale thought desperately. But that wasn't what Crowley would say. Crowley would bluff with everything he had, so Aziraphale's smile darkened and he took a step forward until his chest was pressing against her gun.

"N-ope," he replied, popping the 'p'.

He wasn't sure how any of this could really be all that convincing to anyone, but a flicker of fear flashed through the woman's eyes. Though the rest of her face was covered by the mask she definitely seemed uncomfortable, taking a step back and lowering the gun somewhat. Aziraphale took this as a good sign. Beside them, the man demanded,

"Let me see _your_ real eyes, then."

This time, Aziraphale laughed as he tilted his head towards the man and winked. "Darling, we're not that close."

"And if you're really a… you know, demon," the woman spoke back up, eyes narrowing. "Why don't you just get yourself out of this? If you're _so powerful_."

"Oh, little girl," Aziraphale sighed. He let his eyes drop down to her neck, unblinking, as though fantasizing about snapping it (despite the ill feeling in his stomach this mental image brought). "If you had any idea how easy it would be. How… tempting." The angel let the moment hover for a few more seconds, lingering in the air with artificial menace that must have felt real enough to her, as she took another step back. Aziraphale gave himself a shake as though forcing himself away from the thought. "Not how we operate, though. Rule is to make deals, not attract attention. Unlike Crowley here, _I_ have a bit more self-control than that. Why do you think he's being punished?"

They shot the downed demon a look, who merely glowered back and licked his lips with forked tongue. The two stepped even further back. If they didn't stop retreating, they would soon be backing right out the front door to the waiting law enforcement.

"In any case," Aziraphale finished, anxious to get a move on, "the deal is simple, really. Those officers are never going to let you leave, surely even you people have figured that out. If, however, you do exactly as I say, you'll be home by teatime and sitting on mountains of treasure."

"What are they, dragons?" Crowley snapped. "Mountains of treasure, no one asks for _mountains of treasure_ anymore."

"Whatever you can imagine for yourself," Aziraphale spoke over him, leaving the robbers to look back and forth between them. "Riches. Power. Once we're away from here, you'll ask for whatever it is you desire. I'll give it to you. We leave. You live happily ever after." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "Well, until you die. The deal is for your souls, after all. As I said: simple. So…" Aziraphale smiled. "What do you say?"


	4. Back Into the Frying Pan

Crowley tried to keep his breathing even but it was getting harder. He was so cold he could barely feel his hands now, but at least it meant the pain was starting to fade away. It was alright, though. Upstairs, the robbers were releasing the hostages to the baffled policemen per Aziraphale's orders—and _damn_ , if the last thing he ever saw was the angel like _that_ , then, well, at least that was something—and soon this would all be over.

"Was that alright?" Aziraphale asked him, kneeling beside the demon and looking anxious. The angel took his hand. "Oh Crowley, your hands are like ice! Just hold on, dear boy. We're almost there. As soon as they get back down here…"

"Alright?" Crowley repeated, ignoring the second part of what he'd said. He snorted and shook his head with a small smile. "Now I see why Beelzebub… was convinced. Don't take this the… wrong way, angel, but… you make a pretty… good… demon."

"Oh, hush, Crowley," Aziraphale protested, pink about the ears. "I simply imagined I was you, that's all."

The idea that Aziraphale thought he was anything at all as calm and in control as all that made Crowley shake his head with disbelief. That angel.

"Anyways," Aziraphale went on. "We're almost out of this dreadful mess. Not much longer, dear."

"First things first," Crowley pointed out. "Once the… hostages… are out… you still gotta get rid of… those two morons." Okay, so he was stalling, but Crowley _did not_ want to have the Conversation that was going to happen soon.

Aziraphale nodded and stood. "Right. Shouldn't be too difficult now. How ever can they really believe I'm some kind of demon? Oh, here they come." The angel coughed and cleared his throat, then gave himself a shake. Crowley had to suppress a smirk as Aziraphale's face morphed into an expression of what could best be described as nearly irreverent apathy. Quite the demon indeed.

A second later, the two robbers hurried down the stairs and slipped into the vault with them. Each held two of the duffel bags full of stolen money.

"All the hostages are out," Brother Robber said. "The cops know we still have two in here though, so that buys us some time while they're sorting things out. How are you gonna get us out of here?"

"Easily," Aziraphale assured them with a tight smile. He approached the two, holding both hands out. "I'll transport us. Stand close together. And you might want to hold your breath. Are you ready?"

"Ready," Lady Robber returned as both she and her brother squeezed their eyes shut.

Aziraphale put a hand on either of their heads.

Then he slammed them together with all of his non-miraculous strength.

The thud was audible as both robbers collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Crowley coughed out a weak laugh but Aziraphale didn't even crack a grin as he turned his back on the two and came right to the demon instead.

"Finally," he murmured. "Now then, we really must hurry, dear. You can heal yourself now. Or, do you suppose it would be best if I tried to fly us a little ways out of here, and then you heal a bit, and then we run some more? Stay ahead of Kevin? You could heal in stages that way."

"Angel."

"I think you'll almost certainly have to start the healing process here. How long do you imagine it'll take Kevin to get in once he knows where we are?"

"Angel…"

Aziraphale frowned ruminatively. "Maybe if you can-"

"Aziraphale. Stop." Crowley closed his eyes. He could delay no longer. "Listen to me. You have to run for it. Run, and don't look back."

The angel went still. Crowley heard him catch his breath and forced himself to look back up at his friend sorrowfully. Aziraphale slowly shook his head.

"No, we- we'll get out of here together. If you can heal just a bit-"

"I can't. I can't, Aziraphale. I- I'm already too weak and I don't have enough power to heal even a little. Listen, because I don't know how much longer I've got, but it's too late to stop this body from discorporating. As soon as I do, I'm going to end up in Hell. Angel… don't come after me. Alright? Promise me. Don't come looking. They'll catch you, and I… I couldn't bear that."

"Stop. Crowley, stop saying that. You can do it, I know you can-" Aziraphale's voice broke, though, and Crowley knew the angel already knew the truth.

Sadly, he shook his head. "It's too late. As soon as I get to Hell, I'm going to try running for it. You know I won't give up without a fight. You just get yourself away from Kevin, keep running, keep hiding. Maybe you can find a way to kill him eventually. You're clever, the cleverest there is. And I- I'll try to find you once I'm back topside again." Even though the odds of evading Beelzebub and Hastur and all the demons who wanted a piece of him, _and_ finding another body to run around in… well, it wasn't just unlikely. It was impossible.

"Stop," Aziraphale snapped, fiercer this time. His eyes glimmered in the dim light; the sight of those tears made Crowley want to shrivel away. "Stop… please, Crowley, you can't do this. You- you have to heal. You have to."

"Don't come after me," Crowley repeated. "You have to let me go."

"No!" Aziraphale pulled away from him and for a moment, Crowley wished himself already gone. But the angel didn't turn from him, merely pushed his sleeves back. "I'll just have to heal you myself."

"Wh- angel! I'm a _demon_. You can't heal a demon."

"No, and I can't disobey Heaven without falling, either," Aziraphale snapped. "And I can't possess a human, either! Do you know, I'm starting to find it quite tiresome, being told what I can't do! I said I'm going to heal you, Crowley, and heal you I shall." The angel gritted his teeth. "And then I'm going to deal with Kevin."

Crowley rallied his strength in a panic to hear such talk, grabbing Aziraphale's arm. "No! He's too strong for either of us. In an outright fight-"

"Who said anything about an outright fight, my dear? If I can start you healing, how long will it take you to recover?"

"You _can't heal-_ "

"Crowley, _how long_?"

The demon sighed and closed his eyes. "I don't know, it's not exactly like I do this all the time. Several minutes at least, but he'll be in here in seconds. So if this _doesn't_ work, you'll have used up your time to escape for nothing."

"Several minutes. Alright. Then I'll have to keep him… occupied."

Crowley's snake eyes flew open again with horror. "This is absolutely, _positively_ the worst idea you've ever had! Keeping Kevin occupied means him beating the shit out of you! We're talking torture!"

"Not a fraction of the torture it would be to lose you, my dear boy." Aziraphale paused, seeming to see the anguish Crowley knew he couldn't keep off his face, and the angel's expression softened. "This is the only solution I can see that keeps _both_ of us away from Hell, and I will accept nothing less. I'll be alright, as long as you are. Now Crowley dear, close your eyes."

o.O.o

Such a fine evening… a fine evening to hunt and slaughter a demon. Or an angel. The nature of his prey was of little concern to Kevin, as long as he could relish the thrill of the hunt, the chase, and the ultimate anguish and torment of his quarry. The assassin had to admit, he was impressed with how long Crowley had managed to evade him. The snake had been up here a long time; he must have learned how to get by without using his demonic power, making him difficult but even more satisfying to hunt. The snake and his little pigeon would not be able to hide forever, and if they tried to fly from the city then Kevin would feel it and be able to follow. He almost hoped they did keep this little game up a while longer. Tire themselves out, running from place to place like frightened rabbits dashing from burrow to burrow, but Kevin could out-wait them. He was patient.

The assassin closed his eyes, drinking in a deep breath of earth air, sniffing for the faintest whiff of miracle. They had been busy in this city. Residue of miracles were everywhere, most faint from the passing of time, none that caught his attention in any real way. Kevin slid his fingers over his blade, imagining it slicing the fragile, delicate skin of an angel. And then, perhaps, filleting a snake, piece by piece, feeling the coils undulate in agony beneath his crushing hand.

Oh it was going to be sensational.

A ping caught his attention, the slightest, faintest ring of some vile, celestial power.

Kevin smiled, pointed teeth nearly piercing his own lower lip.

At last. He had known that hapless pigeon could not resist working miracles forever.

Time to carve up an angel.

o.O.o

Aziraphale was still slumped over Crowley, panting and sweating from expended effort, when the floor beside him began to crumble. The assassin came up too fast and the angel was already too spent from exertion; running was out of the question. Instead, Aziraphale clutched Crowley's motionless body and weakly tried to scoot away.

"No," he managed to whisper through a throat thick with emotion. "Leave now, you… foul fiend-" Aziraphale's voice broke and more tears slid down his cheeks.

The demon assassin prowled a circle around them, smile widening.

"What is this?" Kevin asked in a thickly accented voice, extending his dagger and brushing some of Aziraphale's curls aside, making the angel shudder. "So much blood for such little demon. Discorporated, then?" A shadow crossed his face. "Already back in Hell, then. Snake was _mine_ to bring in."

"Yes, I hope you're pleased," Aziraphale couldn't help but spit out. Antagonizing an assassin might not be smart work, but the angel no longer cared. "He's gone. This is _your_ fault, demon! Now you have no trophy to bring back to your boss Hastur-"

"Hasturrrr is not boss of me," Kevin purred with a definite edge in his voice. His smile widened but his eyes never left the angel, intense stare boring into his very heart. "And if tiny pigeon imagines that snake was only one I was tasked to find…" The assassin knelt in front of the angel, free hand shooting out to grab him by the jaw and squeeze mercilessly. "Think again. It is both they wanted. Snake might already be in Hell, but bringing them pigeon will be pleasure enough."

Aziraphale wrenched himself free and cradled Crowley's body closer to him. The tears blurred his vision, seeing only the foggy movement of Kevin's hand as the assassin raised his dagger to scrape the point down the angel's cheek, following the tear tracks.

"Did pigeon…" the assassin started, then chortled. "Did pigeon try to _heal_ him? Was that miracle I felt? Oh, this is better than I had imagined. Foolish, desperate, sad little pigeon. Angel cannot heal demon, all of Heaven and Hell know this. I am so… _delighted_ at attempt, though."

Aziraphale shuddered again, breath catching as Kevin rose to his feet and slid his fingers into the angel's hair. The grip was painful and only got tighter until the angel felt himself wrenched backwards away from Crowley. He cried out, raising his hands to try to push Kevin away while scrambling to keep moving with him to relieve the pressure. The assassin purred again then threw Aziraphale away from him. Folding over himself, Aziraphale peeked around Kevin to Crowley's still motionless body then lowered his head in defeat.

"So disappointing," the assassin sighed. "I had hoped angel would be more worthy prey. Shame to have fun end so soon."

"Then by all means, have your fun," Aziraphale growled, looking up at the demon at last. "Escaping Hell will be no good at all. Escaping _you,_ however, will be child's play. I must confess, when Crowley called me with his warning, I was expecting a truly fearsome demon, not…" He gestured at Kevin and smirked. "Well, I mean, _this_."

The assassin's eyes narrowed, lighting with fire. He slashed out with the dagger, scoring a deep gash across Aziraphale's cheek as a low growl began to build up in his chest. Aziraphale tried to hold back a cry of pain, but the blade was cursed—of course it was cursed. Where it split his skin, fiery tongues of pain flared up like nothing he had ever felt before.

"Pigeon thinks he will escape me?" Kevin purred, even more darkness in his voice now so that it brought its own undercurrent of cold. "Pigeon thinks he can run? Not, I think, if I break legs."

Aziraphale's eyes widened and he immediately tried to crawl away, making it as far as the vault door before Kevin grabbed him by the nape of the neck and slammed his head into the heavy door. The angel gasped, seeing stars, uselessly trying to slap the assassin's hands away as he was rolled over onto his back.

"I imagine Hastur only orders you up here to hunt because everyone knows you'd be quite useless as a torturer in Hell," he choked out, watching Kevin's face.

The assassin's eyes flared again with fury and then he stomped with what must have been every ounce of his demonic strength right down on Aziraphale's knee.

The angel couldn't stop the scream as bone shattered, trying to clutch his leg only to have Kevin stomp down hard on his wrist to pin it to the floor, leaning over him.

"Hasturrrr does not give orders!" the demon snarled. He swiped down with his blade, scoring another gash on Aziraphale's chest. Again, the angel screamed as the cursed blade worked its dreadful magic. "Pigeon thinks any demon in Hell better at torture than _me_? I think not. I think demonstration necessary."

Aziraphale swung his free fist towards Kevin's face, but the demon caught his wrist easily and slammed it to the floor as well so that both limbs were trapped. Kevin knelt nearly on top of him, humming as he clenched the handle of his dagger and punched Aziraphale so hard that his skull cracked the floor beneath them. Aziraphale groaned, panting with pain.

"I've had worse from my barber nicking me shaving," he rasped recklessly.

"What is 'barber?'" Kevin snarled, punching him again. Aziraphale felt his nose break. "Pigeon will learn respect… pigeon will learn fear. And then, if I feel merciful, maybe I give pigeon to Hasturrrr. But maybe not. Maybe I decide to stay here for while, teaching pigeon all ways I can deliver pain." He slammed the point of the cursed dagger into the meaty part of Aziraphale's shoulder and twisted. Over the angel's screams, the assassin murmured, "Maybe I never release pigeon at all. Maybe Hasturrr can come himself. Maybe I kill him if he tries to take my new little toy. What does pigeon think? Not so insolent now, mm? First I will cut out tongue, see what smart remarks pigeon can make then. Next I use pretty dagger and peel skin off pigeon's pretty face."

Aziraphale's panting breath came quicker and more frantically as the assassin leaned over him until they were nose to nose. He sobbed as the dagger was ripped back out of his shoulder and the bloody tip dragged down his cheek over the cut that had already been made. It burned like no fire could burn, leaving him to helplessly buck and writhe under the demon's relentless grip.

Suddenly, Kevin straightened up and released the angel's wrists, straddling him so Aziraphale still couldn't go anywhere. He set the dagger down on the ground, both hands free to start undoing Aziraphale's bow tie. "Pigeon will hold still," he hissed. "I bind pigeon tight, then we go to pigeon's home. Hold out wrists."

Aziraphale swallowed. "No."

"I said, hold out wrists." He pulled the tie free and nodded to Aziraphale's arms. "Angel cannot escape, but maybe if my pigeon does as told, suffering will be less, yes?"

Tilting his chin up as much as he could, Aziraphale smiled. "Angel cannot escape?" he repeated. "Hmm. Angel also can't heal demon, right?"

Kevin frowned. "What?"

Aziraphale leaned up off the floor towards him. "I find it ever so tiresome, being told what I can't do. Incidentally, snake is behind you."

The assassin whirled, but not before Crowley snatched the cursed dagger off the ground and plunged it hilt-deep into Kevin's heart. Kevin shrieked as his chest began to glow with fire.

"He'ssss not _your pigeon_ ," Crowley hissed, snake-eyes nearly glowing in the hellish light of the dying demon. "Let'sss sssssee you come back from _thissss_ one, assssasssssin."

The shrieking grew louder as the fire grew brighter. Then Crowley threw Kevin off of Aziraphale just in time for the assassin to burst into an inferno of Hellfire and crumble to dust that was absolutely, positively dead.


	5. Cooling Down at Last

Alright, we've reached the end! A quick note about Azi being able to heal Crowley vs not... I know there's nothing in canon saying that angels and demons CAN'T heal each other, but every now and then a writer just finds themselves with no way of avoiding a too-easy solution, so my head-canon on this tends to vary depending on what I need for the plot XD

But I did have another idea about what if Aziraphale and Crowley were the only ones it worked for? How would that have come about?

Well, I accidentally wrote a fic about it. It'll be posted on here eventually, but for now is [being posted as serial installments on Tumblr](https://29-pieces.tumblr.com/post/190878412738/singularity-good-omens-fanfiction) (come find me, I'm 29-pieces!). Once it's finished being posted there (couple weeks?) I'll have it here in its entirety as well. Stay tuned if you're interested for Singularity.

* * *

"Oh, good show," Aziraphale murmured, collapsing back onto the floor. Crowley didn't like the way his eyes went unfocused, staring straight up at the ceiling. "Splendidly done, old boy, just… s-splendid…" The angel coughed and shuddered. From the pinched expression on his face, he must have been in a lot of pain, and of course he was. After Kevin had just beaten his ass into the ground.

Crowley threw the knife aside, disgusted by the evil he could feel emanating from the blade. And while Aziraphale might have just discovered that they could heal each other after all, he'd only had to deal with a little bullet. This? Crowley didn't have Aziraphale's conviction. He couldn't heal a cursed injury up the magical way.

"Angel," he muttered, crawling over to pat Aziraphale's cheek firmly. "Hey? Still with me, then?"

"Oh-" _cough_ "yes, I- I believe so." But his breath hitched and there was suddenly a tear in Aziraphale's eye as his body spasmed with pain. He reached up and clutched Crowley's hand. "Crowley?"

"Yeah, 's me. Shit, you're really busted up, huh?"

"Crowley… oh, Crowley, everything hurts."

"That'd be the hell-blade, I reckon," the demon replied, trying to keep his voice light and unpanicked so that Aziraphale wouldn't pick up on how panicked he was. "Now listen, it's not enough to finish you off. I've seen what those blades can do, and it's not pretty, but doesn't look like he did enough damage for a discorporation. You'll be fine, you hear me? Just… stay awake."

"You did so well, my dear," Aziraphale said with a smile—Crowley suspected the angel hadn't heard a word he'd said.

In spite of Crowley's instructions, it was something between a relief and a nightmare when Aziraphale's eyes fell closed and his breathing evened out. Crowley was _pretty_ sure he really would be fine, but not here. He needed to get the angel home. Exhaling and rolling his head this way and that, feeling out his own returning strength, the demon slid his hands under Aziraphale's shoulders and legs and lifted him off the ground.

"Fine, go to sleep then," he said to no one in particular. "When you wake up, we'll be home."

Spreading his coal-black wings, the demon took flight.

o.O.o

Aziraphale woke to fire in his veins and a hand holding him down. The pain made him cry out and the fear made him thrash.

"Blast it- hold still, it's just me! Angel, it's me!"

The hand tightened a fraction of a second before the voice registered, so Aziraphale didn't stop himself in time from swiping out weakly and hitting something in what felt like a face. The hand disappeared and the same voice yelped.

" _Angel!_ "

"Oh, I… sorry… Crowley, I- I'm sorry." Aziraphale let himself collapse back down onto whatever he was on. His face tightened in pain. "S-sorry- _agh_!" It felt like his very bones were being eaten from within by a caustic acid, entire body aflame.

"I don't know what to do," Crowley said helplessly from somewhere above him. "It's not going to kill you or you'd have discorporated by now, but I don't know how to speed this up. The evil will just have to burn itself out, I'm afraid."

Aziraphale exhaled and nodded. "Alright… alright, it's alright."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?"

"Both, I suppose." Aziraphale squinted up at his friend and released a sharp puff of air that didn't quite sound like a laugh but would have to do. "Is it working?"

Crowley stared at him. "No! This was an awful plan! Letting him damn near kill you-"

"It was the only way we were… both getting out of there alive. I'm not sorry." Aziraphale weakly grasped for Crowley's hand and added, "Except for having worried you."

"Worried," Crowley snorted, though he didn't let go of Aziraphale's hand. "Wasn't worried. Still not worried. I don't _worry._ Not a worrier, me."

The angel tried to chuckle but it didn't work all that well. "Alright then." He paused, then looked around at last at the books surrounding him, felt the soft couch beneath his weary body. "Oh, you brought me home."

"Yeah, thought it couldn't hurt and it might even help," Crowley said with a shrug. “Hoped you’d sleep longer, honestly. Through the worst of it. I’m going to have to clean those injuries, because if they fester you really will be dead.”

Aziraphale glanced down at his shoulder and chest and shuddered at the sight of the blood staining his shirt. He couldn't see the wounds themselves through the layers of clothes, but from what he knew of evil-induced injuries, it was bound to be inflamed and blackened. He didn't relish even the small amount of movement it would take to remove his coat and shirt.

"What else is there?" Crowley asked, hovering his hands over Aziraphale's body uncertainly. "I wasn't conscious for most of it." He scowled. "I wouldn't go looking in a mirror for a while, if I was you. Scratched you pretty good with that frog-sticker. Anything else?"

With his entire body coursing with cursed magic, it was hard to separate out individual hurts and the pain was making his head too swimmy to think adequately. Only when Aziraphale twitched as though to sit up did his knee remind him in no uncertain terms that it was completely shattered.

"Broke my leg," he whispered hoarsely, nodding down at it. "Gave me what-for, I'm sorry to say."

"Ngh. That wasn't magic though. Maybe…" Crowley looked up at him with uncertainty splashed across his face. "You healed me. Do you think…? How did you do that? Maybe I could… or maybe demons can't do anything like that since it's… good…"

Aziraphale smiled and closed his eyes. "No, I don't think it's just me, dear. I gave it a good thought, and it occurred to me… how would anyone know whether angels and demons could heal each other or not? When in the history of our race have any of them tried? It pains me to admit but usually it's the opposite they're trying to do to each other. I do believe the notion has always been an assumption that no one's bothered to test." He opened his eyes again to an uncertain Crowley and shrugged. "I don't expect even you could deal with what that wretched blade has done, but the more mundane things…"

The demon shook his head and flexed his fingers. "Glad that theory paid off," he muttered. "Total guess, that's what it was. Sheer luck."

"I suppose you could call it that. Or perhaps faith."

"If you say so. Right then, let me give it a try."

With a deep breath, Crowley hovered his hand over the shattered knee. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the demon gasped in surprise as light—crimson and gold—emanated from his hand to bathe the injury in its glow.

The odd sensation of having pieces of bone put back together from the inside made Aziraphale wriggle a bit, but in only a moment the pain eased away. The angel sighed with relief, though of course that hurt was very little in the face of what Kevin's dagger had done. Still, it was something, and now they knew it worked in both directions.

Crowley chortled in a short bark of surprised laughter. "Huh. Alright, that's good to know, then."

"Quite," Aziraphale agreed, though he felt his face shift into a grimace and knew that Crowley saw it, too.

"I have to at least wash everything else," the demon said, heavy with apology. "If… if you have any holy water it might work faster-"

" _Out_ of the question."

"I'd be careful."

"Well, I haven't got any and it's too dangerous for you to be handling it, dear boy. It's alright. If it'll burn itself out eventually, I'll just… hold on until then." Aziraphale reached for the demon's hand once again, wrapping his fingers around Crowley's and sinking back into the sofa. "I… I thought I had lost you," he admitted, not bothering to try masking the emotion. "You musn't ever tell me to leave you behind again, Crowley, am I quite clear? I simply won't have it."

Looking away, Crowley nevertheless squeezed the angel's hand. "I don't like it either, but we have to look at reality, angel. If they ever get me to Hell, you can't come after me. A demon here or there, that's one thing, you can't take on all of Hell. Not even you."

"Do you know," Aziraphale said, coughing and wincing. "I find it ever so tiresome-"

"Being told what you can't do," Crowley finished for him, but at least now he was smirking, as Aziraphale had intended. He did know his demon, after all. "It's not that I doubt you, I just… worry."

"Thought you weren't a worrier. And what would you do if- if Gabriel came and took me back to Heaven? No matter how much I told you to let me go and not come after me?"

Crowley bobbed his head in acknowledgment and huffed. "Tear it all down until I found you."

"There, so you see, we're in agreement. Oh dear, my shoulder is starting to throb something awful. And I don't suppose I've anything stronger than wine here at the bookshop."

"What are you talking about, there's a bottle of Cardhu right here on the table." Crowley leaned over and plucked a bottle of single malt off the end table, holding it up as evidence. "Hadn't figured you for a whiskey angel. When did you start drinking scotch?"

"Oh heavens, I don't recall buying that at all," Aziraphale said, struggling to sit up. "Do you know, I feel rather like sometimes things just appear in this bookshop? No sense questioning it, it's just what I was needing so might as well leave well enough alone. Do pour me a glass, won't you? I expect I won't feel the pain so badly after a sip or two."

The demon nodded and disappeared to find some glasses. When he returned, they both drank rather heavily, both to numb the pain and to start erasing some of the dreadful memories of the past few hours. This accomplished, Crowley (a tad unsteadily) worked Aziraphale's coat and waistcoat off of him, unbuttoning the shirt to see the awful knife wounds there. Aziraphale did his best not to look, clenching his whiskey glass tighter and tighter as Crowley dabbed the wounds off with (regular) water as gently as he could. It still hurt fiercely, as though he was being stabbed all over again; no matter how hard Aziraphale tried to keep from showing the pain, he was soon arching off the couch with hoarse cries tearing through gritted teeth and tears squeezing through tightly closed eyes.

"Sorry… god- Satan- _someone_ , I'm sorry, angel, we're almost done!"

Crowley sounded distraught, so Aziraphale tried even harder to hold back, but really he was helpless against the sheer agony of the evil wounds. True to his word, the demon finished quickly and Aziraphale collapsed back down onto the couch, panting for breath.

"I do hope… that wretched Kevin fellow… is dead for good," he bit out, feeling only a _very_ little remorse for such an uncharitable wish. "What an awful demon!"

"Oh, he's dead, alright," Crowley assured him darkly. "Made it a little too easy on him, you ask me. Killing him so fast like that. He deserved worse."

Except the element of surprise and the swift death was the only reason they'd won, but Aziraphale no longer had the strength to hold much of a conversation, and at any rate he was sure Crowley knew it was true. Not that he didn't understand the sentiment.

With a weary sigh, he settled for nodding and closing his eyes. There was a brief stillness, then Crowley asked,

"Should I, er… get you anything? Or just… leave you to it-"

"Oh please stay, won't you?" Aziraphale pleaded, taking the demon's hand once more. "I expect I'll be in tip top condition before too long… just need to rest… Unless you've somewhere to be, of course, I wouldn't want to keep you-"

"Nowhere better to be, angel."

Comforted, Aziraphale fought through the pain in an attempt to rest. It was an enormous burden lifted, just knowing that Crowley was fully healed and in no danger and was there with him. Aziraphale couldn't imagine what he would do if ever anything were to _actually_ happen to the demon. To be left here, alone… he shuddered. No, no matter what Crowley said, Aziraphale knew he would never, _could_ never, abandon him to torment in Hell.

"Angel?"

"Mm?"

"You know, you really do make a scary demon."

Aziraphale felt blood rushing to his cheeks and he peeped his eyes open with guilty amusement. "I must say," he admitted, "their faces were quite the treat."

"'Darling, we're not that close', what possessed you?" Crowley snorted, then chuckled. "Going to have to use that plan more often."

"Oh no, next time it's _your_ turn," Aziraphale protested. The corner of his mouth twitched, the image managing to banish just a slight sliver of the agony still wracking his body. "Next time you're-"

"Don't say it."

"-going to be an angel, it'll be marvelous!"

"Marvelous? It'll be humiliating! I'll discorporate of sheer embarrassment to be seen like that."

Aziraphale settled back once more, starting to feel the first soothing tug of sleep pulling at his mind. "Not to worry," he yawned. "I'll heal you before you do."

Another silence descended.

"'Spose you will," the demon finally murmured. A cold hand fell across Aziraphale's aching face helping ease the pain a little more. "Right. Sleep it off. I'll be here."

And that, Aziraphale thought as he drifted away at last, that was the only thing that mattered.


End file.
